


Because You Want to be Shattered

by vanishing_time



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Despair, M/M, POV First Person, Post-Infarction, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:45:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4449833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishing_time/pseuds/vanishing_time
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"This is the last thing I can think of, when everything else has failed."</i><br/><br/>What happens when it's pushed until it breaks?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because You Want to be Shattered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gravity_Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gravity_Sun/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Because, it's what you want](https://archiveofourown.org/works/729851) by [Gravity_Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gravity_Sun/pseuds/Gravity_Sun). 



Your body is writhing under me, around me, and I'm buried deep inside you. Buried so deep I've never been within anyone, and I watch your bewildered, stunned, frightened expressions I didn’t know you could make, I listen to your throat releasing unfamiliar sounds that make my stomach clench. Dragged out of your cynical stoicism, your face is speaking of millions of feelings, telling millions of stories. Your hips are tossing against me like waves breaking on an ocean shore.

You’ve finally stopped struggling to keep your clothes on, stopped cursing me and swearing and trying to defend yourself. Stopped hitting my head, tearing fistfuls of my hair, choking me, clawing me, biting my flesh until your teeth drew blood. Stopped calling me a crazy bastard, telling me to fuck off, to leave you alone. Stopped yelling at me, telling me to go home, that you don't need me. Stopped lying to me that you can handle your life on your own.

Stopped pushing me away.

"That’s it. Stay still," I say in a tone I'd use to comfort a sick, old dog. I gently hold your thigh, not intending to smash your infarction scar. Just a little warning.

I don't want to hurt you.

But you don't know that, and you obey, looking up at me, eyes shining red with uncried tears of pain and fear, breathing shallow, pupils so hypnotizingly bottomless inside your blue irises. Like ice-cold tarns among hackly mountain ridges. Your face has gone deadly white, your body limp, weary from exhaustion and the too much medication you took.

You’ve gotten older. The agony has craved wrinkles around your eyes, harsh indications of a life irreversibly changed. You are anything but what people would call beautiful.

But you are beautiful to me.

I feel your fingernails in my arms where you've been trying to shove me away, digging bloody scratch marks in my torn skin. I hear my name mixing with silent, defeated, pleading words, your gasps for air, but your begging doesn't reach my mind.

It was so easy. Your shouts fell deaf on my ears when I kicked your leg, and we collapsed. Now I'm lying on top of you in the light of the autumn evening, on the floor of your messy bedroom where there is no one but you and me, among the clothes your girlfriend had left, the clothes you'd scattered everywhere in the grief of losing her. The absence of her presence is strangling us both.

Even with sweat trickling down your cheeks, beading above your lips, you’re so maddeningly desirable. In another version of our lives I’d gorge on you now like I’ve always wanted to. I’d comfort you, lap up the salty drops on your skin, endlessly caress your perfect body with my hands and my tongue, kiss every inch of it all over, all night long.

But now having you like this is thrilling, but not arousing. Just mere biology, mere friction. I touch you, stroke your legs, your waist, and my hips fit perfectly between your thighs. I fit perfectly inside you like the setting sun into its bed of clouds. Your sinewy body underneath me that has lost so much weight is hugging me tight, even as you struggle weakly, involuntarily against me. In the back of my mind I'm aware of the burning pleasure in my loins, but I don't care about it. It doesn’t matter, nothing but a useless side effect. I lean down to taste your flesh, burrowing my face in your neck. I can still smell that woman on you, even though she left long ago. You smell of her where you should smell of me.

But jealousy or lust are not what this is all about. Dominance is not what it's all about. Possessing you is not what it's all about.

It's all about you.

"Why?" you ask at last, and I never could imagine your eyes would ever seem this wounded, this betrayed. It makes my heart sting. How can I answer that in a single sentence?

"Because…" I say. "You want to be shattered. And I can't allow that. This is what you need."

And I don’t lie.

You need healing. And I know that I'm the cure.

I need you to realize that, too.

You rejected me. You kept rejecting me, then calling me back, then sending me away again. Playing with my despair, pushing until it broke and it has finally overwhelmed me. Nothing I did could save you. The pain meds I ordered and the numerous doctors I consulted, the sleepless hours I spent listening to your muffled moans of suffering with my hand on your forehead. The presents I bought you to cheer you up. The late night conversations when we were almost happy. I went to the physical rehabilitation with you. I let my marriage perish for you.

I had nearly lost you, then I got you back, yet nothing I did was enough to end your self-destruction.

I was not enough.

But I must try harder. I must dig you up from among the rotten shards of your life, pull them out of your flesh. Even if you don't want me to. Even if you don’t let me. I must cure you from this wrecked state her leaving forced you into, the infarction forced you into. I must rescue you before you destroy yourself.

I’m not going to bury you in the ground. I’m not going to watch my other half just wither away and die. I couldn't bear that.

I never thought of you any less but as a complete man, the man I fell in love with at first sight. It's you who thinks you're not worthy anymore. You say you've become useless, but for me you’re still the same as you were when I met you. Even now I admire you. Your mind. Your soul. Even your goddamn stubbornness. I want to get you back, to take you back in time to make you happy, to make you feel whole again. I would gladly switch places just to set you free once more. I'd endure your agony. I'd give you my leg if I could.

"I never thought... I could loathe you this much."

Your voice is cold and broken against my ear. Your words hurt. They really hurt, but it's all right though. I’ve made you feel something else than apathetic resignation. If you hate me now, that’s okay, I'm willing to pay that price.

For a moment I wonder whether I’ve gone mad. Probably yes, from sleep deprivation, from worrying, from hopelessness. The realization that in the end no one was there for you but me. No one was left for me but you on those endless nights, both of us together alone in our separate bubbles of torment and loneliness.

But now you’re here, alive and that’s enough for now. I lean on your wrists with all of my weight, feeling your pulse surging through your veins as I move inside you, and I watch your face contorting in pain and humiliation and sudden pleasure when I find that place within you that make men lose control, and your loud moan escaping your lips shoots sparks across my body. You're hard, but I don't think it's arousal you feel. My own physical pleasure is still only on the verge of my consciousness, and I don't care if it ever comes to completion. It’s only you I see, only you I need. I lean down to kiss you, but you spit in my face. It’s okay. You don’t have to love me. You just have to forgive me.

Taking you like this is the last thing I can think of when everything else has failed. To remind you there is pleasure and togetherness in the world. This is the only way I have left to express my love for you.

"This is the only way I can set you free," I whisper, and you close your eyes.

But then my body can't bear it anymore and I begin to thrust faster, and you gasp and groan and the sounds you make are like slaps to my face, and the lust overwhelms my senses as I take you so hard your spine arches and your mouth opens in a silent yell. I want to take you with me, but you smack my hand away, and in the end I come alone as suddenly everything is condensing into one point and I burst, and my breath hitches in lonely oblivion.

I look down at you, and only when your face starts to grow dim I realize I’m crying. Your eyes have gone horribly blank, and I feel my soul break to dust.

It didn’t work, I merely ended breaking the barriers and you along with them. I try to kiss you again in a last desperate, useless attempt to... _cure_. And this time you let me, but your lips are motionless.

"I hate you," you say after. You're not looking at me, voice rasping and so, so broken, so powerless.

"I love you," I answer into the deadly silence, and I don’t lie. I love you more than myself. More than I loved my wives, more than anybody. More than life itself.

I used to fantasize about you. The way we’d be together, just like an everyday couple. The way you'd kiss me, hold my hand as we went for long walks on the ocean shore. I touched myself for you, thinking of the way you’d adore me, fondle me, murmur me endearments. You'd take me, making yourself a part of me, and I'd take you until we both cried in rapture. I would worship you on my knees to show you how much you mean to me. I used to fantasize about crossing that line that you always joke about, and always fills me with false hope. That someday you’ll give me your whole being instead of just a part of you. And you’ll love me at last.

Maybe it’s all about me after all.

**Author's Note:**

> A remix of Gravity_Sun's work.  
> Usually I'm not into rapefics, but that work somehow grabbed my mind, and I thought let's turn the tables.


End file.
